Things I Have Eaten for the Love of Asians
Meaning, things I have eaten at the urging of my Asian boyfriend’s family and friends.
1. Fish heads.
2. Fish fins. Fish toes, fish brains, fish beaks. Fish cartilage.
3. Fried blood.
4. Chicken feet.
5. Green soy milk.
6. Stuff that looked like delicious custard but turned out to be weird eggy stuff.
7. Crawfish that I had seen alive, trying to escape the sink.
No, I’m really just kidding, because I am a half-Mexican who grew up with Mexicans and therefore I’ll eat just about anything, anyway. Except eyes. But intestines, pig heads, and cow tongues are all fair game.
On Father’s Day, we had pizza and Shiner Bock with my dad for lunch. Then, for dinner, we went with my boyfriend’s parents and had duck, whole fish, and an awesome $200 Alaskan King crab. The crab had been alive in a tank when we ordered it. It was about two or two-and-a-half feet across. They cooked half of it with black pepper flavor and half was ginger scallion. My favorite was the black pepper. But the best part of all was when my boyfriend’s parents found out it cost $200. Their dentist son (not my boyfriend, but his brother) told them. The dad said, “I don’t know why you spent $200 on this when it tastes the same as a $35 dungeoness crab would have.” The mom said, “$200? Oh, no. See if they will take it back!”
(Asians reading this are nodding or rolling their eyes, but I’m always delighted by my boyfriend’s parents and their crazy ways. I love other people’s parents when they do things that annoy their kids.)
Speaking of Food
My boyfriend and I divide our friends in two categories: those who will eat at Chili’s, and those who will not. We will not. We won’t eat at Chili’s, TGI Friday’s, Applebee’s, Ruby Tuesday’s, or that other one. Unless we’re starving, and even then we’ll still snottily critique the entire meal.
We are not food snobs, who only eat the best food. We’re worse – we’re food bitches. (That means we like the best food but also eat Jack in the Box tacos.)
Trashy Phase
I’m back in my trashy/slutty phase, which seems to happen every summer. That means I wear full makeup and big earrings, and my hair turns blonder. I explained this to a natural blonde friend who was visiting from small-town Louisiana. She sort of wrinkled her nose as I said, “And then more highlights, and then blonde roots, and blonder, and blonder and blonder! Until I look completely trashy and awesome like Kirstie Alley, or like that waitress over there.”
Also, I cut my hair shorter again. But not because the long hair was too trashy. On the contrary – the long hair got heavy and wouldn’t stay big. I like big, Texas hair, as my British coworker enjoys pointing out. Hell, yeah, I do. What’s the use of being born in Texas if you’re not going to have big, bleached hair? Dude.
